Scars on 45
by 246b01
Summary: Lauren is left with a few unwanted reminders of her time with Massimo.


Author's Notes:

First fanfic, so. Hope it's okay :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Showcase. I'm just borrowing them.

Also, all grammatical errors are my own.

Lauren is in Bo's bedroom, has been for a week and another Wednesday. She hasn't come out, nor has she spoken more than two words to any of them. Whenever in their presence now, the extent of her vocabulary falls away to half-slurs and murmurs; barely words at all. And it's not that she means to be rude or to deliberately shut herself out—or maybe she does.

Since her imprisonment in the clutches of that madman, she just hasn't known how to be—well, Lauren.

Which is ridiculous, she thinks, since Lauren Lewis is a creation of her own mind, of Karen's Beattie's mind. How can an author be so uncertain of their own protagonist, and at such a progressed stage in her story, too?

While Lauren is finding it difficult to communicate with the others, she has no trouble at all communicating with her mind. Or rather, her mind with her. The illogicality, the blurred, blundering spiel going round and around in her head, tells her that the blisters and the burns and the scorches on her arm—her whole right arm—wouldn't be a problem for Bo to heal. Her back wouldn't be a problem for Bo to heal.

But Lauren is human, and she's going to damned well act like one.

A soft knock on the door draws her attention from the bed upwards. Bo is standing in the doorway, with that familiar nervous glint in her eyes. For the second time today she's holding a tray, only instead of bearing buttermilk pancakes and orange juice like it did earlier, it now bears sandwiches, a bunch of grapes and a bottle of mineral water. The sandwiches are crustless, the grapes are green. Lauren allows herself a wry smile, for it seems Bo knows Lauren better than Lauren does right now.

But the brunette's eyes find her injured arm, and Lauren is frowning and looking away faster than she probably means to. Bo clears her throat, perhaps realising her mistake. "Hey," she starts gently, resisting the urge to call her gorgeous for fear of making things worse. Lauren only nods as Bo steps in the room. She moves slowly, as if she's treading on ice thin as tracing paper, fragile as elastic string. "I brought you some lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. Your favourite."

Lauren's answer is the same as this morning's. "Maybe later."

Bo doesn't relent with a sigh and leave, not this time. Instead, she takes another step forward. "You've gotta eat something, Lauren. You've barely touched anything in days."

Lauren doesn't reply.

"I mean," and Bo tries to laugh as she says it "that has to be medically worrying, right?"

Lauren's eyes find her hard and accusing, and Bo realises that that perhaps was also a mistake. Swallowing hard the lump in her throat, the brunette sets the bustling tray down on the table by the bed, intending on taking her leave once more.

If only her feet weren't stuck to the ground, freezing her in place, preventing her from retreating for what seems like—could be—the millionth time. She remains rooted to the floor, by Lauren's side where she knows she's truly meant to be, for always.

But Lauren's not here, not really. No matter how fast Bo had ran, no matter how angry she had been, how violent she had gotten, it doesn't change anything. Yes, Massimo is dead, horribly dead at Bo's hand, but the damage had already been done. She had been too late, for the first time ever when it comes to those she loves. She had come barging in just in time to see Massimo pick Lauren up by her hair, just in time to hear the woman scream as the Druid delivered her to the fate that Bo had failed to deliver him to all those weeks ago. Bo had sprinted and grabbed Lauren's hands before she could hit the bottom of the raging fire pit. There had been screaming, a lot of screaming, and even more pain.

And then . . . well it's all Bo's fault. If she had just kept her grip on Lauren then she wouldn't be this cold, this _empty_. But Massimo had taken a sword to her arm and effectively sliced it open, and Bo had cried out and snatched her hand back out of reflex. Stupid fucking reflex. Lauren had jolted to the right and screamed bloody murder as her right arm and whole back seared with the flames.

After that, after Bo had managed to pull Lauren to safety and kill Massimo, the blonde had gone silent. The only thing she had done for the rest of that day was nod, blink, and cry whenever the Succubus tried to take her in her arms.

It's Bo's fault and Bo knows it. She just wishes she knew how to make it better. How to make Lauren better.

But she won't let her heal her.

"Bo?"

The brunette is brought back to the room and out of her frozen state by Lauren's quiet, tear-rehearsed voice. "Yeah?"

"I said I'm gonna go take a bath. If that's okay."

"Of course, yeah," Bo breathes softly, suddenly overcome with how awkward this feels. "I could help—"

"I don't need your help," Lauren snaps, at the same time struggling to her feet. "I'm a grown woman, pretty sure I can still manage personal hygiene."

"I-I didn't, mean—"

"I know exactly what you meant." And she's cutting her off again with that sharp, unforgiving bite. "All of this, you inviting me to stay, letting me sleep in your bed, bringing me food and magazines and bloody fudge ice cream every five minutes—it's all just to ease your conscience, isn't it?"

Bo's eyes widen. That, she wasn't expecting. She knows Lauren is mad, but she didn't think she was cruel. Perhaps that's why her own voice is so wounded, so defensive. "No! How could you even say that!?"

"You know I hate fudge ice cream!"

"Oh. You do? I thought it was toffee. Damn, I _knew_ it was one of them—but anyway, that's not the point!"

"It _is_ the point!" Lauren's voice is as full of pain as her eyes are now, and for the first time since this argument began, she looks at Bo. Really looks at her. "You've never been so sweet, so caring." She chuckles a little, as if she's in a state of disbelief. "I mean, have you ever ran up and down those stairs so much? Ever?"

Bo's heart cracks and a tear falls from her eye. "Yes," she whispers.

Lauren's eyebrow narrows. Bo holds onto the bedpost, smiling wistfully at the floor. "That first weekend we spent together. I cleaned the whole house. I changed the sheets three times because I didn't know which ones went best with the throw pillows. I bought stupid white candles and put them everywhere, even in the kitchen. Do you remember that?"

Lauren doesn't reply.

"I was so nervous about that weekend, Lo. I wanted everything to be perfect. Do you remember what I said to you the next morning? When you woke up?"

Lauren doesn't reply.

"Come on, Lo," Bo sighs. "You must remember. You smiled so brightly I thought you had the sun in your mouth.

"You said you loved me."

"That's a given. What else?"

"You said I had ruined your sheets."

"Lauren."

Lauren sighs, and sits back down on the bed. "You told me I was beautiful."

"And you are, baby," Bo whispers, another tear sliding down her cheek as she slides to kneel before Lauren. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

"Stop it," Lauren growls, her hands shaking in her lap. Bo reaches for them, only to be shoved back onto her leather clad ass. She stares up at Lauren in shock, positive she sees some glint of an apology rushing through her dark brown irises, but it's gone as soon as it's come, replaced by the cold exterior of a well-manufactured shell. Lauren exhales slowly, almost as if she's processing what just happened. She never meant to hurt her; God, she could never. And in truth, all she wants is to sink into the brunette's embrace, like she used to. She remembers that first weekend they spent as an official couple. She remembers every little thing about their relationship, from the way Bo stared at her when they first met, to the way she hesistated before kissing her, to the dark, lustful, longing gaze when they made love for the first time. Lauren's awkward, was never very confident outside of her profession, but with Bo . . . well, Bo makes her feel like "after-hours Lauren" every single time they're in a room together.

And yet, her logical, stupid brain can't help but associate the forty-five scorch marks on her back and the flimsy plastic wrapped around her arm—the remains of six layers of skin—with Bo. Because she knows deep down, that if Bo hadn't let go of her hand, she would still be able to stand without feeling the heat of a hundred suns on her spine.

"Lauren," Bo tries, voice soft and shaky as Lauren's tight, angry fists. "Honey, please. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Lauren protests again, her stomach churning. She pushes onto her feet again, and the wretched flesh of her shoulder blades, her spine, her tailbone, stretch against her skeleton, thick white hunks that threaten to penetrate right on through if she dare move again.

A hand around her calf, firm. "I'm sorry."

Lauren closes her eyes against Bo's voice. "Let go."

Bo grips tighter in response. The heaviness of those words aren't lost on either of them. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to let go of your hand."

Lauren knows this, knows it wholeheartedly, but she can't reply. Lauren doesn't reply. A wrangled sob escapes the Succubus on the floor. "I'm so sorry, baby."

I know. It's okay. Lauren doesn't reply.

—

It takes five minutes, but Bo eventually leaves Lauren to have her bath in silence. Of course, it takes the blonde a further ten minutes to work up the courage to remove her clothing, but it's significantly easier without Bo here to watch. She is slow in her unfastening of her blouse's buttons, she is gentle as she slides the sleeves down past her wrists. Cold air swarms the gashes and it evokes a choked gasp from her dry throat. Memories of the fire, of Bo screaming and letting her go. Her mind wanders a little further, to scenarios where she had slipped completely and feel to her fiery death.

Images of her charred body, crisping and lifeless in Bo's arms.

_Oh, God, no. Stop it._

She steps into the water, taking a breath in preparation as she lowers herself. On first contact she hisses, sends water splashing over the sides of the tub as she jerks back up. It's a good few seconds before she tries again, and another few before she's succeeded in settling, and even then, she won't lie back.

_"Bo, I'm slipping!"_

_"Just hold on! I've got you, I swear!"_

_"Bo!"_

_"Lauren, look at me! Look at me, baby! I'm not gonna let you go, I swear!"_

Lauren closes her eyes, recalling how sweaty her hands had been, how drenched her clothes had been, how fast her heart had been beating. She begins to slowly sink back.

_"It's getting higher! Bo, it's burning!"_

_"I'm trying, sweetie, I'm trying! I'm almost there, I just need you to reach up and grab my shoulder. Okay? Lauren?"_

She can hear Massimo laughing at them, getting closer, sword in hand. She slips under the water to drown him out.

_"I can't! I can't, I can't!"_

_"You can! I know you can! You're Lauren Lewis, you can do anything! Come on, babe, trust me! One big jump, that's all we need!"_

Murmuring. Pain. Oh, and the best part:

_"AAAARGH!"_

Lauren had jumpped, grabbed ahold, and Bo had screamed and kicked away. Lauren had slipped, fell side-on into the fire. Massimo's laughing. More murmuring.

And then, pain hot enough to leave scorch marks.

Lauren's whole body blurs forward and the floor floods. She grips at the edges of the tub and chokes on the air, gasping to catch her breath. How long had she been under?

She doesn't realises she's crying until Bo is by her side, shouting, cupping her cheeks, confusion and concern and horror all mixed up like medicine in her eyes. Medicine indeed—Lauren calms almost instantly, and then starts to weep. "You promised," she whispers. The anger and the hurt is back in a second, and she's pushing and shoving Bo before either one realises how slippery the floor is. "You promised! But you never keep your promises, do you!?"

"I know," Bo replies, tears forming in her own eyes as her heart begins crumbling into her stomach. "I'm stupid. And selfish and stubborn and indecisive. And I'm so, so sorry."

"Shut up!" Lauren screams, hands flying to her ears in a vain attempt to block Bo out. "Just shut _up_! My head's going to explode!"

"Honey, please, calm down," Bo whispers, tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. Her voice is panicked, almost terrified; she's never seen Lauren like this before. She tries to reach out, to grab Lauren anywhere she can, but the blonde is thrashing and yelling and crying, splashing water everywhere.

"Go away!"

"No."

"Bo, go away! Please! Please just—leave me alone!"

Bo moves closer, swallowing a little before grabbing hold of Lauren's shoulder and sending one massive pulse of energy from palm to skin. "No." She searches Lauren's eyes for some kind of compliance, but all she's met with is big, brown, watery orbs, apologetic and accusing all at once.

"Stop it," Lauren slurs, beginning to pant. "Stop it! _Bo, stop it_!"

"Shh. It's okay, baby. Everything's okay."

"Bo, please . . . please . . ." And Lauren gives up, collapses against the Succubus, unwittingly displaying her forty-five scorch marks for all the world to see.

—

"You promised."

Bo sighs, looking over at Lauren who lies beside her on the bed, a safe distance away. "I'm sorry, Lo." By now it's a mechanical response, rolling around in the air with all the others and all of Lauren's silence. The doctor wants to scream, get violent, but only because she can't be in Bo's embrace without aggravating her wounds. It makes her blood boil and run cold all at once. It provokes her silence, her detachment. She knows it's not fair but she can't help it.

Not even when Bo tells her that she loves her.

Hearing Bo say it just makes the pain worse.

Bo swallows, unashamedly expecting to receive an exchange of the same phrase. She knows Lauren is mad, has every right to be, but she also knows that Lauren's heart is just as big and just as beautiful as her brain. So to hear nothing in response, is soul destorying.

"Babe, I love you," Bo tries again, stronger in her conviction.

Lauren doesn't reply, instead closes her eyes and clutches at the bedsheets with her fingers, the way she always does when she's trying to sleep. With a hint of caution, Bo shuffles closer, but only a little. Only enough to envelop herself in the woman's sweet, gorgeous aura. Her right side emanates red, her left emanates a collage of blues and pinks. Pain, anger, passion, confusion, conflict, but most importantly love.

The ache in Bo's chest subsides. Lauren still loves her.

"You promised.

Bo wants to cry. "Lauren—"

"No." Lauren shakes her head, sniffling, wrinkling her forehead. Her eyes are still closed. "I mean that first weekend. What you said the next morning. You promised that you'd give me everything, that I was the only one you wanted."

Bo smiles, lip quivering as she reaches out and strokes Lauren's hair back behind her ear. "You _are_ the only one I want, and I _do_ want to give you everything." And there's so much certainty and determination in her voice, that it melts the edges of Lauren's heart. It's why she doesn't jerk away when Bo's fingertips begin lightly grazing the horrible flesh of her right arm. Soft, soothing, just enough to curb the pain long enough for Lauren to inhale and say "it won't grow back. The skin, on my arm. My back, it's probable given time, but not my arm." Her eyes open. They are full of oceans again. "You always said I was your beautiful blonde doctor. I'm not beautiful anymore."

"Hey," Bo breathes, eyebrows furrowed. She grabs Lauren's hand and squeezes it firmly, speaking with more determination than before. "You are, and always will be, my beautiful blonde doctor. If you'll have me after all of this, anyway."

Lauren smiles. Bo thinks she isn't going to answer, and can't help but grin when she does.

"I love you."


End file.
